Moon Tae-young’s childhood was closer to madness than magic—even if you sprinkled rainbow-colored sprinkles all over it.
What plunged an already hellish two-person family into further despair, reducing it to just one, was the indiscriminate civilian massacre carried out by Jo Tae-jong, an Awakened criminal. Jo’s horrific deeds had shaken the entire nation, but after his arrest, he was diagnosed with severe mental illness and sent to a psychiatric detention facility instead of facing execution.
Due to the brutality of his crimes, there were doubts about the diagnosis. However, the psychiatrist who evaluated him was highly respected in academic circles. And when a series of celebrity drug scandals erupted shortly after, Jo Tae-jong was quickly forgotten—at least publicly.
But the families of the victims would never forget.
The psychiatrist from back then had now become so famous that even a simple consultation required waiting over a year. For someone penniless like Moon Tae-young to have received multiple counseling sessions from him—and then having those records wiped clean afterward—was clearly suspicious.
“So, you’re suggesting the Hunter Association might have meddled with the Jo Tae-jong case?”
―Exactly! Look at the bolded parts. There are gaps concerning the doctor’s family issues and career. It’s not just missing records; certain document formats have been completely wiped from existence. Among those two years of records, some patient-related documents definitely seem unnatural to me, even if that’s just a gut feeling.
“It might not be highly likely, but what if it’s all connected?”
―If these three issues exploded simultaneously, it could’ve been a career-ending catastrophe, destroying all his accumulated achievements, right?
“And if some organization approached him at that point, offering a solution in exchange for cooperation… coincidentally, Jo Tae-jong’s lawyer had indirect connections with high-ranking officials in the Hunter Association?”
―…That’s the theory. But honestly, I can’t say for sure that the Association was involved. It took me a long time to dig even this far, and there’s definitely information I missed, not to mention all the erased records.
Cha Eui-sung scrutinized the documents with a grave expression. With no concrete evidence, it was merely speculation—but as a former head of the Hunter Association, his instincts strongly suggested otherwise.
“Those bastards have always been good at burying things. Did you find anything related to Cheongseri in your search?”
―Nope, nothing at all. Actually, even stuff that existed a few months ago has vanished. That was your doing, right, boss? Anyway, I’ve wondered why the hell a rural backwater like this had even fewer records than a village at the edge of nowhere, but having lived here myself, I get why. Don’t you?
“Hmmm… Well, thanks anyway. You’ve been a huge help.”
As soon as he hung up, Cha Eui-sung’s thoughts returned to Moon Tae-young’s vendetta—something he’d briefly pushed aside due to issues with the Savior Gauge. Without intending to, his mind drifted to those who might have provided the catalyst for the world’s end.
Would Tae-young’s revenge possibly include that psychiatrist as well?
Who knows?
If Moon Tae-young had truly wanted the doctor ruined, he probably wouldn’t have risked multiple visits that could raise suspicions. Even if he’d planned murder, those visits would’ve easily put him on the suspect list.
Moreover, the erasure of those counseling records itself was suspicious. Such an action wasn’t something that could be accomplished through brute force alone. Unless someone possessed even more exceptional skills than Kim Jeong-baek, they would’ve needed the doctor’s cooperation.
Thus, if Tae-young truly sought revenge, the target was probably Jo Tae-jong, not the psychiatrist.
Somewhere in the village near that vacant lot, Moon Tae-young is planning something. His goal is revenge, and his target is Jo Tae-jong.
It was becoming clearer and clearer. Of course, Cha Eui-sung didn’t give a damn whether Jo Tae-jong lived or died—or even if Moon Tae-young hacked someone to bits and roasted them over a bonfire—but the apocalypse looming afterward made him feel distinctly pressured.
This whole “Hero of Love ♡” project was probably the System’s desperate attempt to put a leash around Moon Tae-young’s neck. If Tae-young self-destructed according to the Outer God’s plans, he’d lose the person he cared most about—forcing him to abandon his goal and thus preventing the end of the world.
But he must’ve had a lover in the past. What went wrong that time that caused the world to end?
If pairing him up with a similar type of person as the Demon King’s lover could’ve made everyone happy, there’d have been no need—no damn need—for the sword to pass into his hands now. The previous lover must’ve either died or failed to help Moon Tae-young achieve his revenge.
“Then, fuck, am I supposed to both love him and help him get revenge?”
Resentment flared up inside him. Survival was something he’d stubbornly manage on his own without needing to be ordered around, making him perfectly suited for this task—but he didn’t have to like it.
Maybe I should meet that psychiatrist after all.
He didn’t want to approach carelessly, but it seemed necessary to at least briefly poke around and see what kind of person he was.
***
The heavy mood he’d felt from the unsettling story he’d heard upon waking gradually dissipated after four o’clock rolled around.
He was going to meet Moon Tae-young again today. Since there’d been no text about overtime work, he planned to head straight to Moon Tae-young’s house in the evening.
By five o’clock, he felt irritated by his hair, which had somehow grown annoyingly long again. By six, all the clothes in his closet were scattered across the floor.
Eventually, Cha Eui-sung gave up, took a quick bath, and left home. Since it wasn’t particularly cold, he wore something thin, which oddly heightened his mood.
“Come in.”
Oddly enough, when Moon Tae-young opened the door, Cha Eui-sung hadn’t heard the sound of it unlocking. Perhaps this was an implicit signal that he was welcome to enter freely if Moon Tae-young was busy. This subtle shift made the feeling all the more strange.
Maybe he was reading too much into it, but… anyway, the reception exceeded his expectations.
“Have you eaten?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
After hearing yesterday’s revelations, how could he possibly have any appetite? Cha Eui-sung suppressed his urge to scold and walked over to his usual spot.
“Let’s watch a movie today. The one we didn’t finish last time.”
He placed the tablet he’d brought onto the low table, noticing Moon Tae-young’s subtly hesitant expression. Still, without complaint, Moon Tae-young quietly poured tea into two cups and came to sit beside him.
“Isn’t this the part we already saw?”
“No, it’s not.”
“I think I remember that line.”
“Probably from when you took my drink away.”
Cha Eui-sung settled down next to Moon Tae-young, who fell silent as the explosive action scenes began to play. At the height of a chase scene, Cha Eui-sung casually pushed the beanbag away and leaned against him. He heard a soft sound—was Moon Tae-young laughing or just breathing in disbelief?
Since he hadn’t pushed him away, Cha Eui-sung decided not to care. Simply feeling Moon Tae-young’s warmth against him was surprisingly pleasant.
Normally, he preferred cold sensations—even drinking chilled water. He was sensitive and fickle with such things.
―“Hell yeah.”
Kaboom!
A particular line from the movie reminded him sharply of the System’s earlier choices, causing him to flinch slightly.
Perhaps thinking the sound was too loud, Moon Tae-young lowered the volume a bit.
Just as Cha Eui-sung was calming himself, watching actors jump across buildings, he felt a gentle tickling sensation on his head. Glancing upward subtly, he realized Moon Tae-young was lightly playing with strands of his hair.
Does he like my hair color?
In this second life, no one had dared casually touch his hair before. He wondered why someone lightly touching a few strands could have such an effect, but every time Moon Tae-young’s fingertips brushed him, the surprisingly sensitive sensation shifted his mood slightly.
Seems he thought a lot about yesterday.
Cha Eui-sung scoffed inwardly at the subtle yet increasingly bold gestures. Now that he’d set aside the distracting worries, he could clearly sense Moon Tae-young’s emotions. How desperate had the System been for this development?
He tilted his head slightly, pressing his face softly against Moon Tae-young’s palm. The hand that had been toying with his hair froze briefly.
Boom!
Just as a high-rise building collapsed spectacularly in the movie, Moon Tae-young’s large hand covered Cha Eui-sung’s cheek, his thumb softly brushing against his hair. It tickled, yet was strangely satisfying. Goosebumps rose across his neck.
This again… feels a bit weird.
At this point, Cha Eui-sung had no idea if the movie was showing buildings blowing up or heads exploding. Random extras dying meant they were villains; someone charging heroically through a hail of bullets must’ve been the protagonist. Whatever. He didn’t care who won.
Considering that he himself could charge more impressively than anyone on-screen, Moon Tae-young was far more stimulating than any actor on the small display.
Cha Eui-sung tilted his head further, gently pressing his lips against Moon Tae-young’s palm. Breathing in deeply, he caught a faintly perverted whiff of soap.
Maybe because of his keen sense of smell, his pulse quickened.
Suddenly, Moon Tae-young’s hand brushed against his earlobe. The firm nail pressing against the soft skin sent a sharp, unexpected shock through Cha Eui-sung’s body.
Fuck.
A spot that should’ve been numb to such trivial sensations abruptly became sensitive. As Cha Eui-sung peeked upwards, he caught Moon Tae-young staring directly at him instead of watching the film.
Yet, annoyingly, Moon Tae-young’s expression remained calm. Anyone else would think that hand—which had boldly touched his cheek and teased his ear—belonged to someone else.
Realizing he was the only one getting flustered somehow felt like losing. Frustrated, Cha Eui-sung decisively pushed Moon Tae-young down, shifting himself onto him.
Wrapping an arm around Moon Tae-young’s waist, he used him as a cushion, lying sideways. Moon Tae-young naturally embraced him, pulling Cha Eui-sung’s brown-haired head closer.
With a soft shuffle, a casual touch transformed instantly into a tight embrace.
The beanbag he’d pushed aside earlier now lay uselessly next to them as their bodies pressed closely together.
Seriously, this is strange.
Lying there wrapped in Moon Tae-young’s arms, Cha Eui-sung felt a vague sense of unreality, almost as if his mind and body had suddenly separated. His consciousness felt detached, floating in midair.
Simultaneously, the chilling sensation from the day before returned, washing over him again. Cha Eui-sung pressed his face into Moon Tae-young’s collarbone, lightly rubbing his forehead against it.
The smell of freshly laundered clothes, shower products, the scent and warmth of his body…
Being able to detect exactly when Moon Tae-young had showered and how eagerly he’d waited for him by scent alone was disturbingly dog-like yet oddly stimulating. Moon Tae-young lowered his head, breath gently grazing Cha Eui-sung’s hair.
As a Hero, I can’t believe I’m doing stuff like this.
Damn it. The heat he’d felt just before falling asleep reignited vividly. Thankfully, this time, it wasn’t as awkward or overwhelming as before.
Honestly, he’d spent all this time cursing out the System. Among all the tasks required of him, this particular duty felt less tiresome—borderline enjoyable.
When Moon Tae-young tightened his embrace, Cha Eui-sung felt all tension drain away, his body strangely limp. A faintly amused voice whispered into his ear.
“No wonder you insisted on watching a movie again.”
“And yet you seemed perfectly fine watching it, knowing full well.”
He grumbled lightly, rubbing his head against Moon Tae-young’s neck, then shifted upward to level their eyes.
Finally facing him, he saw dark flames shimmering intensely in those black eyes.
How could this possibly be the gaze of the jerk who’d once joked about their supposed seven-year age gap?
A shiver crawled up Cha Eui-sung’s spine.
He could feel it clearly. At this point, it seemed time to make a deliberate move for the sake of the Gauge. After hesitating several times due to past failures, Cha Eui-sung slowly cupped Moon Tae-young’s face, carefully pressing his lips onto his.
Hot breath mingled, and despite his nervousness, soft, supple warmth met his lips.
As Moon Tae-young began gently moving his lips, brushing softly against him, a sharp, electrifying sensation ran down Cha Eui-sung’s temples.
